Rose petal hands
by et voila 1312
Summary: Jane has a bad headache. Lisbon takes care of him. Definitely Jisbon. Romance only if you look at it that way.


_**This story was inspired by, oddly enough, a headache. Mine, last week. It gave me an idea: I wondered, everything else aside, what if Jane had a really bad headache, and what, if anything, would Lisbon do to help? Not care? Be nicer to him? or just leave him alone?**_

_**Disclaimer: still not mine, still not making any money from this. Fzzst. **_

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The Mentalist

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Rose petal hands

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Make the pain go away.

Please. Just let the pain go away.

Patrick Jane lay on his brown leather couch, grateful they weren't currently on a case, so no one was bothering him for his input.

Usually he loved putting his brilliantly superior intellect to work, rooting out the bad guy, before everyone else, of course, and then waiting for the others to play catch up. It was like watching a symphony orchestra coming together; very entertaining.

And most of the time the tranquil sounds of the office, the murmur of voices, the shuffling of feet on the hardwood floor, served to give him a semblance of peace.

But right now every sound was amplified; every _bleep_-_bleep_ of a phone sounded like a fire-alarm, soft footsteps were a stampede, and indoor voices were like jack-hammers pounding behind his eyes.

It hurt to move, it hurt to breathe.

Right now it hurt just to think, and the aspirin he'd taken earlier hadn't done squat.

Insomnia he was used to; he couldn't remember the last time he'd counted sheep instead of Red John suspects. And bloody smileys and glassy dead eyes constituted his dreams. No surprise there.

But this? The squeezing around his temples, the pounding behind his eyes…he was _so_ not ready for this unpleasantness.

It then dimly occurred to him; Lisbon ate aspirin like Skittles, was constantly rubbing her forehead, her temples, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Did his poor Lisbon quietly suffer from this… _torture_, on a regular basis?

Yes, she did, he called her on it all the time; their talk in the car during the car saleslady case, always asking her '_why_ _so_ _grumpy?_'

He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. Maybe in the future he'd show a little more compassion when she face-planted in her palm, not rib her so much.

On the other hand, it wouldn't do to be _too_ nice all of a sudden; they'd demand to know who he was and what he'd done with the real Jane.

_Thud!_

Uuugggh, someone somewhere in the office just slammed a door, or wore heavy shoes, or made some sort of obnoxious noise. Not helping him at all. Why hadn't he thrown his suit jacket over his head?

A distinctly familiar fragrance tickled his nose. Vanilla, and the tell-tale cinnamon.

Oh, no. Not now, Lisbon.

At any other time, he'd be delighted to see the tiny brunette come storming into the bullpen and alleviate his boredom by announcing they had a case.

Not today. Today he wanted to be left alone until he blacked out or his head exploded. Whichever came first.

Her footsteps entered the bullpen, and he waited for her to bark his name.

"Van Pelt! What have we got on those phone rec-" But Grace interrupted her.

"Oh, boss, you might want to…"

Although they continued _sotto_ _voce_, he could still hear:

"…_he's not napping. I mean, I know he's usually not really asleep anyway…_"

"…_why do I need to keep my voice down?_" Lisbon whispered.

"…_he's been lying perfectly still like that for hours…pale…face looks really pained…think he might have a migraine or something…even heard him whimper a couple times…"_

There was a pause, and their voices got even quieter, but Jane didn't bother trying to hear, the effort only making the pain worse.

Finally the whispering stopped, and he heard Grace slip quietly back into her chair, while Lisbon's now lighter footsteps retreated.

There was quiet again, for a few minutes at least. Then he heard Lisbon approaching again, this time coming into the bullpen towards his couch. And he was powerless to do anything to stop her.

Expecting the inevitable jolting kick, Jane was surprised to feel the leather cushions shift under her slight weight as she sat next to him.

"Nnnnggg, please Lisbon, not now, I beg y-"

"Shhhhh. Don't speak right now, okay, Jane? Just lie still." Now her tone was even softer!

"…mmmh…" His reply was barely a whimper.

Not a problem. For once, he had no clue of her intentions, not that it mattered; if she'd had the sudden urge to wrap him in duct tape and toss him off the roof, then that was his fate.

"This should help." He felt something extremely hot tickle his skin. "Now, I'm not gonna apply this directly yet; it's still scalding. We wanna let it cool a bit."

His chest constricted; she was practically cooing!

"For now let the steam do the work, we'll apply it more firmly in a few minutes."

The combination of Lisbon's low murmuring and the steaming towel under his neck had him turning to goo in no time. He loved her voice anyway; so authoritative, but gentle too, slightly husky with just a hint of mid-western roughness. No doubt she'd punch him silly if she knew he thought such things about her.

The heat from the towel felt so good against his throbbing skin, and she knew exactly how much pressure to apply and where, never leaving it on one spot too long, making sure to give his forehead and temples equal treatment.

Finally, when it had cooled just enough to be tolerable, she laid it over his forehead and eyes, then put a hand on each side of his head and lightly stroked his temples with her thumbs and fingertips.

It felt like dove's wings touching him, like his head was cradled in the softest down. Gradually the pain eased, the incessant throbbing retreated, the vise squeezing his head loosened, disappeared. He inhaled deeply, then blew out a slow breath, this time in blissful relief.

Lisbon was watching him closely, and knew the moment the compress was working. She could see him visibly relaxing; the stiffness in his shoulders was gone, and when she lifted the towel from his face, his jaw had relaxed and the pain lines creasing his forehead had smoothed out, fading almost completely. He kept his eyes closed, though.

He looked almost…boyishly handsome again.

"This is getting cool. I'm gonna go reheat it." She still kept her voice low. "Stay here, _don't_ _move_, I'll be right back." This time he did as she instructed, and sure enough, one minute and twenty-two seconds later she was back. "Can you sit up?"

"…mmmmm…."

"Not even for this?"

Just then he caught a whiff of his favorite tea. Cracking one eye, he saw a plume of steam rising from his blue tea cup, which Lisbon was playfully waving in front of him.

"Why Lisbon, you made me tea?" he said weakly. He couldn't help but smile at the gesture as he sat up slowly.

She blushed self-consciously at his smile, and at being caught doing something nice for him.

"Well, yeah…" She blushed even harder. "You need something to take these." She produced a bottle of heavy-duty pain meds. "I'm guessing those two aspirin you took earlier didn't help."

He recognized her dismissive, matter-of-fact tone as an attempt to gloss over her embarrassment. He knew Teresa was a natural caretaker, but didn't like to advertise. Afraid it might damage her rep as a tough, ass-kicking lady-copper.

Meh, he'd let her have this one, pretend it was no big deal. He'd just have to find a way to thank her later, without her thinking he was thanking her.

He gratefully took the tea from her and held it up to his nose. It smelled divine. Bringing the cup to his lips he took a cautious sip, the memory coming back of Rigsby's well-intentioned, but 'weird' tasting effort.

It was perfect. The temperature, the water/milk balance…and, he could tell from that one sip she'd put the milk in first, _and_ let the water _truly_ boil. Absolutely perfect. How did she do that? She'd never made him tea before.

Had she been studying him? while all this time he thought _he'd_ been studying _them?_ or had he become that predictable? If it was either, he'd have to remedy that; _he_ was the mentalist here, _he_ figured everyone else out, not the other way around.

He tilted his head in a slight shrug. "It's not bad, Lisbon." Yes, that should balance things out nicely.

Looking only slightly chagrined, she handed him two pills. He popped them in, chasing them down with several more swallows of the Lisbon tea.

"Lie back down," she ordered, taking the tea from him.

"Mmmm, all authoritative, even in bed. I like it!" He closed his eyes as he slid bonelessly back down, not needing to see the deep pink staining her cheeks to know it was there.

She blushed furiously again. And kicked his couch.

"Shut up, Jane." But she was smiling.

When he was situated and comfy, fingers laced over his stomach, she placed the freshly-heated compress back over his eyes. He heard the pill bottle and his cup and saucer rattle as she collected them to leave. He quickly unlaced his hands, reaching out a finger to touch her arm.

"Thank you, Lisbon." His tone was tired, but sincere.

"Try to rest. We'll no doubt have a new case soon." Then she was gone, her footsteps fading once again.

He re-laced his fingers, and almost instantly was asleep. This time there were no nightmares, just sweet darkness.

Xxxxxxx

Several hours later, well-rested and his headache long gone, Jane was up and about, being his usual self, with the added bonus of having slept for five solid hours.

Also, when he'd woken, there'd been another fresh cup of tea sitting on the little table next to his couch. It hadn't been a minute old, still steaming, perfectly hot. Immediately, his gaze had swung towards her office, but it'd been empty. He'd sat up and drank his tea, thoroughly enjoying it for five full minutes, before standing and stretching.

With the heightened clarity of no pain, and a long, deep nap, he felt like Jane _2.0._

Which was bad news for his colleagues, not to mention the players in their current case.

Jane on little sleep was bad enough, but now that he had, the gray matter was working double time. Pokes at big-wigs were sharper, probes struck like bulls-eyes, and he sniffed out the killer and his teen-aged male lover-slash-accomplice so fast the others barely had time to finish their coffee.

To make up for it, the case-closed pizza was on him; no pineapple for Cho, or cilantro for Grace. He even sprang for bread sticks.

Now he had to think of a 'thank you' for Lisbon, and it had to be two-fold. He wasn't used to such incapacitating _physical_ pain, not even from getting punched in the nose. He was truly grateful to her for nursing him through it, and for making him tea. Twice.

He knew exactly what she'd say, that she didn't need anything, that he could thank her by behaving himself in the future, by not causing so much trouble, yada, yada.

Perhaps, but how boring would that get after a while? Terribly. Meh.

No, he'd have to express his gratitude in some other way. After some careful thought, it came to him.

So while everyone was busy with the obligatory paperwork, and Lisbon was in a meeting, instead of settling on the couch with tea or a Sudoku, he slipped out to run some 'errands'. When he returned he had a white gift bag, and saw Lisbon back at her desk, doing her Boss work.

Excellent. Now he wouldn't have to wait for her to get back from her meeting, however long _that_ took.

'Higher-ups, and their endless, boring, useless meetings,' he thought disdainfully. As usual, he strolled in without knocking.

She glanced up, her eyes immediately going to the bag he was carrying. Her lips quirked in amusement.

"Where'd you disappear to?" Her tone was casual, with just a hint of scolding, as she refocused on her work.

"Went to get coffee." He held up the bag, then set it on the table in the corner.

Her brow furrowed. "You don't drink coffee."

"It's not for me." He went to stand in front of her desk. "I'll be right back. You finish whatever you're doing, and then you and I shall drink our coffee and tea together." He was grinning. It unnerved her.

Her frown deepened. "Jane? What're you-?"

"Be right back Lisbon!" And he was gone. Rolling her eyes, Lisbon got up from her desk and went to her table.

Curious, she peeked into the bag. Inside was a coffee from Marie's, still piping hot, judging by the steam escaping through the slit in the lid. Lifting it from the bag, she noticed a box underneath it.

Setting the coffee down, she reached in, slid the box out and set it next to the coffee. It was a small bakery box with a clear plastic lid and a cupcake inside.

Removing the lid, Lisbon saw it wasn't a cupcake, but a tiny cake, much like the one Alice bit into in _Alice_ _in_ _Wonderland_.

Only hers was made in the shape of an old-fashioned nurses hat, and written across the front in blue icing were the words:

"_World's_ _Best_ _Nurse_"

Sinking into the chair, Lisbon could only stare at the tiny treat, images of ponies and emerald necklaces, ice cream sundaes flashing through her head. She felt her throat constricting, tears pricking at her eyes.

Just then Jane walked back in, ever-present tea in hand. She swallowed hard, forcing the tears back and cleared her throat to hide her reaction. He handed her a napkin as he sat down.

"No need for tears, my dear. It's just coffee." He took a sip of tea, completely nonchalant.

She glared at him, her mossy eyes a swirl of emotion.

But her expression was clear: _'Ppfshh, right!' _

She looked at her cake, then at him, her watery eyes soft.

"Thank you, Jane."

His small, but genuine smile said '_you're_ _welcome'_.

But he really was quite pleased with himself to have elicited such a response to his gesture; he had a running list in his head of the times he'd managed to render Agent Lisbon speechless.

But he just shrugged. "Meh. Figured you'd like a change from the usual bearclaw."

After a few more seconds of admiring it, she put the lid back on the box and slid it to the side. Then she peeled open her coffee.

"Aren't you gonna eat it?"

"Not just yet. I'd like to keep it awhile." A pause as she considered. "I might freeze it."

"It'll just go stale. Terrible waste of a cake." He shook his head sadly. "_Terrible._"

She just shook her head and smiled.

* * *

**A/N**-Hope you all enjoyed this: as always, I enjoyed writing it! Please review! It took several days of wracking my brain to come up with his 'thank you' gift; I'd like to know what you all thought of it. Original? Cute? Stupid? Cheesy? Sound like something he'd do? Lemme know!


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